My friend just sent me a nice poem by Theresa Turk about lovers on the Piccadilly line which I think applies to the couple I spotted last week.
The lovers on the Underground,
locked eye to eye
and knee to knee,
fly Chagall-like above our heads,
are not aware of you and me.
Unheeded run the station names,
the sweating, red
raw football fans,
the graffiti, the orange peel,
the rolling Coca Cola cans.
Click here to see the final verse.
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